Human from Earth
by madwinter12
Summary: Mary's just a human from Earth. Language barrier or not, she's said it before and she'll say it again.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: I own nothing; all belongs to blizzard except my OC blah blah blah… This is my first fanfic and I don't even have a vague clue where it will go. Constructive criticism is always welcome. **

Chapter 1

As consciousness slowly settled in the awareness of a male figure standing before her, screaming and raging, slipped away. An authority figure, frustration, defiance, and unsurprisingly, some form of something about sex. Her dreams always seemed to have something sexual in them these days. She really was becoming a cliché teen. The scenario was replaced with the murky perception a Wednesday morning.

A familiar dread curled inside her. God, school again. It felt like she'd fallen asleep just moments ago. She didn't want to go, never did. Who did? No one.

She sought out her phone, blindly searching beneath her pillow for it. Damn alarm wouldn't shut up. She groped around for it, growing as frustrated as her half-asleep mind could be as she was unable to find it.

Then she realized she hadn't heard the alarm at all, and she retracted her hand to the warmth. She didn't have to get up yet. More sleep. More sex dreams with nameless men. Comforted, she tried to remember where her dream had left off.

She reached to pull for her comforter. Too cold. Her feet rubbed against each other. Cold. Where was the blanket? Had she kicked it off again? Ugh, too cold. The teen rolled to her side.

Instead of the expected brown flower print carpet and white comforter piled against the side of her bed, the sight that greeted her sleepy eyes didn't make much sense. That's not my floor, she thought. Where's my blanket? She rubbed her eyes, straining to keep them open in the too-dim light that made tempting to just shut them again.

A few blinks later she was certain that wherever she was, it didn't look like her room, or anywhere in her house, or anything she'd even seen before. Half asleep or not, panic was setting in. At first she was frozen, taking in all her shocking surroundings. Tall foreboding trees so tall the tips of them were lost floating above the low hanging foliage of vines, leaves and other masses of green and purple. Where she should have been lying in a bed, instead she lay in a mess of grass, leaves dirt and oh god, bugs. This thought had her scrambling onto both feet.

"What even… what the hell?" She turned on her feet as she searched everything around her, hoping an explanation would appear.

Due to the eerie white mist or fog or low lying fog, Mary didn't care what it was, she could only see so far before it all melted together. It was trees everywhere, thickly clustered together with brambles and thickets curling around their roots. Into the fog, it was still trees she saw, only increasingly faded until there was nothing at all up white mist in all four directions.

Silence reigned, and she stood motionless, suddenly afraid to disrupt the silence, afraid to be heard. Could a forest even be this quiet? Weren't there things living in it? Birds, _bugs, _beasts, monsters, murderers, rapists, aliens, anything and everything out there that was about to hurt her.

Fear mixed with the panic. It tingled in her tense shoulders and clenched palms. The urge to flee was battled by the knowledge that she had no clue where she was or who or what was near. Fight or flight? Flight, something immediately cried but was it safe to run? No, answered the paranoia, and suddenly it felt as though thousands of eyes were upon her, listening to her heart pound, watching her breath, following her eyes darting into the gleaming and dark woods.

She held herself, and the bone shaking confusion and the fear that had her trembling and the shock that was making her gape wordlessly and the urge to check behind her and the bad feelings that were just boiling up and up and up and how was this even possible what was this where was she what was going to happen to her how'd she get here-

"Oh my god. Oh my god… what the _fuck _what the _fuck? What the fuck?" _She was only murmuring, but her voice was enough to interrupt the oppressive silence. Soon

sound of her voice faded away and then everything was quiet again. Her thoughts, heartbeats and individual breaths were the only noises. Could a forest even be this quiet? She felt unexpected disappointment when nobody answered, and then she felt ridiculous.

There's nobody around, Mary told herself, you're alone. "You're alone in the fucking woods." She chanted aloud, "Nobody's listening, Mary, nobody's going to answer." As predicted, there was no answer, not even the chirp of a bird.

"Okay. Okay." Four deep breaths, and she was walking. She pretended she knew where she was going, and who she would meet, and she pretended she didn't feel the instinctual urge to outrun it all. Just walk, she told herself, just keep walking.

Above her, the canopy blotted nearly all the sun, and only an impossibly rare speckle of light lite the forest floor. She was walking in one continuous shadow.

She was further disheartened when an hour or so later a thorn ran across her bare thigh, leaving a trail of red in its path. A quick check confirmed her suspicion. "No pants." She told the forest around her. No pants, no socks, no shoes, no jacket, naked completely besides the old underwear and sweatshirt clinging to her goosebump covered skin that looked frail and sickly in the forest light. She tried not to think it, but the words, 'I'm totally screwed,' refused to go unheard.

It was a deliberate decision to distract herself after that. Where was she? These didn't look like any of the woods she'd seen around her house or school. Then again, she was new to the East Coast. One thing for sure, this wasn't the cacti filled desert of Arizona, that much she was 100% certain. What type of forest was this? Tropical? Shouldn't it be louder? Where were the animals and where was the wind and rustling leaves that followed? She figured she should be afraid she was somehow dead, but Mary didn't put much faith the ideas of afterlives, therefore she was alive and likely going to die anyway.

So how'd she get here? Had she been kidnapped? Had there been a nuclear holocaust that caused so much radiation she was hallucinating. She'd never done drugs, never touched a drop of alcohol. She was too young for that, too smart. Only losers needed that stuff to be happy. Except now a little experience with being high would be nice to compare to whatever this was. Was she on a different planet? Had aliens kidnapped her? Were they watching her from some spacecraft right now?

Or was she just some idiot who somehow ended up a forest. Amnesia perhaps? God, she almost whimpered, what happened? She'd gone to sleep last night after finishing her homework, it'd been late but she always stayed up late. I'm 16, she moaned silently, I don't know how to survive this! I can pass tests, draw a portrait or two, and babysit. I cannot eat bark or hunt animals and survive winter and snow like that boy in that book and I'm going to starve, get eaten alive, anacondas, bears, gorillas, man-eating ants, and who knows what else is in this eternal forest.

She felt the tears growing in her eyes, and didn't stop them as the overflowed and fell. Crying proved to make walking difficult, with her aching bleeding feet stumbling over roots, her tear-blurred eyesight, and the sound of her hiccups and cries overwhelming any awareness she had of the her surroundings.

She tripped, got back up, tripped again, and got up again. It was partially determination and mostly for fear of staying in one place. I'll be okay, she reminded herself.

A few times she encountered some flying glowing things, decided they were some sort of huge local bug, and took it upon herself to stay the hell away from them. Thankfully, they seemed to be avoiding her as well, floating away with enough vigor to make Mary wonder just how intelligent they were. Floating bugs or not, it was good to know that at least one living thing inhabited this forest.

Far worse though, was the second living thing she encountered.

Mary was yet to see it, but she knew that something was there following her. The paranoid feeling of watching eyes had become more intense, an inkling of being observed she unfortunately realized was not just the creation of uncontrolled imagination.

It had been there for maybe the quarter of an hour by now, and she was sure it was creeping closer with each step. It kept out of sight, moving with mastery and experience over the forest floor. Truthfully, she hadn't heard a single footfall, but she didn't doubt it's presence for a moment.

Ideas of escape by running or climbing trees flickered by, but the chance of escaping whatever it was, and it clearly knew how to stalk prey in a forest, was hopelessly nonexistent. Maybe it was an animal, maybe it was a person. Mary was unsure which was preferable.

She had just stumbled over another root after being surprised by one of the blowing bugs when coming from above a heavy weight fell on her.

She fell with an "Unnff," and hit the ground hard, her tailbone and skull slamming into the forest floor with enough force to put black spots into her fluttering sight.

Her attacker was pinning her to the floor, strength pressing her into the ground at her wrists and waist. The painful grip on her wrists was decidedly human, as was the other hand holding a knife to her exposed throat.

Words were dancing from her attacker's mouth, but none of it made sense, and she found herself unable to think straight. All she could see was skin and a cascade of blue. The noises had slowed, and each nonsensical word was spoken slowly, as if her attacker was emphasizing something. I'm about to die, Mary thought. Or perhaps she'd said it aloud- it was impossible to tell.

The spots slithering across her vision finally left, allowing her to see her attacker for the first time clearly. He was a man, which explained his size and the way his body felt against hers. Dangerous, strong, overpowering, huge. His facial features were hard to make out in the lighting, but the glinting dagger at her exposed throat was impossibly obvious.

She could feel it's cold edge against her skin, and she dared not swallow. Her breathing, erratic and bizarre, threatened to be her undoing, as each gasp pressed her skin harder against the dagger. Her eyes were glued to the weapon and an entirely unfamiliar rush of adrenaline was making her more anxious by the millisecond.

The assaulter pushed tilted her chin up, and his eyes locked onto hers with ferocity. They were narrowed slits that burned like little stars, and they were drilling right through her.

She watched as he spoke again, and she listened carefully to each thing he said, and she understood none of it. He seemed to understand this, or some version of it, because he leaned closer, baring his teeth like a wild animal. Locks of his hair, an impossible blue hue, fell around both their faces.

His nose almost touched hers, and the knife at her throat was ever present. She swallowed, felt the dagger more intimately, and threw away any idea of speaking, lest she slit her own throat in the process.

He snarled, but leaned back. Mary physically felt his gaze as his narrowed eyes scrutinized her inch by inch. Her lack of clothes was even more pitiful at that moment, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than she could recall.

She was startled when he stood up in a fluid motion, his tall form then towering over her. Mary scrambled to her feet attempting to back away but managed to somehow trip on her own feet and fall again. Her eyes didn't leave his threatening form was she got ahold of herself and stood. The moment she was upright he was practically atop her again.

Her voice returned to her personal space was violated for the second time. "Hey!" She called weakly, stepping back, "Get away from me."

Her attacker had the grace to look surprised, and the way he titled his head was startlingly similar to a housecat- a feral one.

He mirrored her retreat, stepping closer once more. For a second they stared at each other, then too fast for her to register, he was behind her, holding her prisoner against his chest. The dagger had disappeared but the threat had not.

He said something to her then. It was short, blunt and in a foreign language, but the threat was obvious. How tall could one man be? She was a standard 5'5, and with her head not even reaching his shoulders, he had to tower over 6'.

Mary was trembling when he released her. She almost fell at the lack of his support. She hadn't noticed how much he'd been holding her up. She looked at him blankly when he appeared before her again, smile long gone. She felt something tug at her hands. She glanced down and then her eyes flew back to his. "You tied me up...w-with a rope?" Her indignant voice cracked.

She stared at them dumbly. How he'd done that without her noticing was beyond her. Indignantly, she glared with the most force she could muster, "You!" Mary cried, thrusting her hands forward, "Untie me!"

For a split second she had a glimmer of hope he'd obey, but instead he snatched up her two wrists in one enormous hand and pulled her forward. Mary avoided stumbling into him but didn't avoid the shove sent her way. She barely kept balance, and turned around to glare at him. He met her glare and beat it, and then motioned for her to start walking.

Mary obeyed. No point in fighting, she brooded. As ironic as it was, trudging through a forest with him was better than trudging through it alone.

It didn't pass Mary's notice that while on most Wednesday mornings she sat through classes that made her want to die, on this morning- if it was even still morning- she instead was… well she was here, wherever here was, hiking in the woods without pants or shoes.

She tugged self-consciously at the sweatshirt. A small glance back confirmed that the sickly man was still there. Technically, she didn't know if the purple skin was a sign of illness or just a natural pigment. Nobody was actually born with purple skin, right? But from the strength he'd shown when attacking her, those hadn't been the actions of a man with a severe health condition. The blue hair was weird too, she'd seen similar colors on the kids at her school; nonetheless, it struck her as odd.

The skin though, Mary wasn't sure how she'd missed it at first. At first she'd wondered if it was just a result of the lighting, but that didn't last. It really looked to be purple. But each time she dared to look back he was still a pale lavender, almost gray. His ears too, if that's even what they were; they'd reminded her immediately of those elf characters in movies and stuff. However the similarity had been troubling, and she pretended not to have made the connection afterwards.

It was impossible to tell time, but from the flecks of sunlight she occasionally encountered on the forest floor the sun was still up. But now her feet were hurting, and more scratches had appeared. Most of them barely broke skin, but one or two were deeper, and the blood had clotted and dried unattractively. Normally, she'd have found some band aids already.

Every time she fell she got another bruise or scratch and she tried to brush the dirt and leaves from the injuries for fear of infections. The last thing she needed was to get seriously injured. But more disturbing was that every time she fell, a strong arm pulled her back up. He probably did it more out of convenience to travel quickly and not out of some misplaced concern, but Mary didn't like it.

Behind her the man was walking silently. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't hear his footsteps over her own. But she never doubted his presence. The sensation of his eyes drilling was unrelenting.

Every inch of exposed skin felt vulnerable, exposed. Again she tugged at the red sweatshirt. Would it have killed her to wear pants to bed for once?

She'd been retracing her steps since her wretched awakening that morning when her steps faltered in surprise as she saw rooftops in the distance. They were slanted and half covered by the thick tree growth, and seemed to blend in with the forest. Mary thought they looked vaguely Asian, and for a split second wondered if somehow she'd landed herself in Asia.

Her internal debate was put to an end as a masculine and oddly pleased _humm_ informed Mary that her captor had noticed the rooftops as well. She concluded, with dread, that their hike was about to be over.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Mary hadn't given it a lot deep thought, but she had wrongly assumed the purple skin was a one-time thing.

As she grew nearer and nearer to the village her legs began to shake. Understandable, considering everything, but it certainly did nothing to improve her confidence or the front of strength she'd decided to put up. With the confidence and increased pace her captor was walking with, she knew that nobody at the encroaching village was going to protest to her treatment; in fact, Mary feared that her predicament was minutes away from becoming intensely worse.

Below a wooden archway, at the entrance of the village, two guards, both female, Mary noticed, stood at attention. They wore matching uniforms, though it was really more like some medieval armor, and held matching weapons, three sided knives. The green haired one on the left, having not noticed the two approaching figures, distractedly twirled hers. The guard on the right had noticed them, and though her neutral expression betrayed none of her thoughts, the respectful nod to her captor spoke volumes. Mary felt the combined weight of two pairs of suspicious eyes, and it dawned on her what would happen in this village, done to her by these... severe people, would not be something to handle lightly.

The adamant dislike and animosity aimed at her was difficult for Mary to cope with. Even then, she stumbled forward at the force of her captors shove, listening as he barked commands. Their true meanings was lost on her, as was the response sung out by another armor wearing female who stood deeper into the center of the village. The hand that gripped her forearm was nothing if not bruising as her captor brought her before the other woman.

They came to a halt. For a moment, Mary saw a look of confusion mare the other's features and the woman swayed back. Suddenly the confusion was gone, replaced by a scowl, and Mary wondered if perhaps she'd imagined it. The higher ranking woman held herself with enough elegance and confidence to declare nothing if not power and importance. The same purple skin, the same ears, but not blue hair, white.

She had to brace herself against the sharpness of the strange woman's stare. Like a criminal before the court, she thought. Who are these freaks to treat me like this? _They _are the criminals. Indignation rose up the back of her throat and she stared daggers at two beside her, tempted to put up a fight. Her shoulder itched to jerk away from the man's grip, feeling angrier and angrier as he surely bruised her arm. Bastard.

A stupid idea, she surrendered bitterly. She hadn't stood a chance against the man before and there was no way she would now, surrounded by his friends. Besides, she'd never fought anyone, really fought, in her life. Wrestling with her seven year old brother for fun was one thing, taking on a well trained….for lack of better knowledge she'd call him a soldier, well taking him on would be suicide. Maybe her life was about to start sucking, but she didn't want to die. For gods sake, just yesterday she'd been taking notes of electronic configuration and the Lewis structure.

Mary felt regret, wishing she'd bothered to watch Alice in Wonderland, at least once. That's what this is, she quieted, a wonderland.

The woman's voice sounded like that of a choir girl, too ingenuous to seem real. Whatever she was saying sounded musical, dipping low in annoyance, then higher again. She stood stiff, arms crossed across her chest impatiently, and every so often she'd jerk her head towards Mary. Mary watched as the man interrupted her. Despite the language barrier, Mary could feel the reason and calmness in his words, along with a sliver of frustration.

Finally, with a snarl to compete with any lion, the woman relented, looking not at all happy. Mary could nearly imagine her words. _Fine! Do what you want with the girl, but we need to have a talk later... and put some damn pants on her. _At least, Mary hoped she'd get some pants.

The grunt the man gave to the woman's retreating figure was likely a thank you. But that gratitude didn't transfer over to Mary, for his glare was even more hostile than before. He's probably blaming you for causing the trouble, Mary realized. Ugly asshole.

He released her arm, and Mary sighed in relief, absently rubbing the sore spot. It caught her off guard when he spoke, seemingly to her, for the first time since their unfortunate meeting.

My name, she realized after listening to several seconds of gibberish. "My name?" Mary clarified, pointing to herself.

Her looked satisfied as he repeated a slightly garbled, "Myname," already tugging her toward a building of some sort.

Her eyes widened at her own stupidity, dumbly allowing him to pull her along as she realized the mistake she'd made. "No, no," she began, cautiously tapping his shoulder, "That's not my name." He glanced back at her, eyebrows raised, probably having recognized her 'name' "Not _my name," _ she shook her head, hoping that was a universally recognized gesture, "_Mary_," she gave him an urging look, "_Mary."_

His only response was a scowl, and after that he grew increasingly intolerant of her attempts to clarify things. She eventually gave up, accepting the ironic misnomer.

Due to the structures that seemed to be impossibly built into the tree's themselves and the baffling wonder she felt each time she saw another purple skinned person, Mary quickly lost all sense of direction.

They passed another pair of guards, similar to the pair below the archway.

Both were female again, both purple skinned, both nearly two feet taller than Mary and pounds of muscle stronger. The man directed her down a pair of winding wooden stairs; she had to watch her feet on the smooth, worn wood. They sunk deeper and deeper into the earth, the wooden walls and floor giving away to stone.

To her bewilderment and horror, she began recognized her surroundings: the damp, dank smell, horrible lighting, stagnant air, the ominous quiet. She'd never been in one personally, but everything about this place screamed dungeon. She didn't belong in a dungeon, Mary internally wailed. Trapped between the dark unknown that stretched ahead of her and her captor behind her, Mary chose the latter, turning and staring up the man.

Perhaps it was the cold, for it was far colder that far underground surrounded by stones that leaked and dripped, or maybe it was the panic, but Mary shook. Her legs, coated in goosebumps and adorned with the drying blood, trembled; her hands, still tied together, she hugged against her chest, and pulled into white knuckled fists.

Like a gasping fish, her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. She was given no chance to speak, however, her captor didn't seem to care about her obvious alarm. He gave her an irked scan and then physically insisted- by gripping her shoulders and turning her back around with a shove- she start walking. They didn't walk far, only past a couple empty cells, and then she really became a prisoner.

On the opposite side of the metal bars, her captor stood watching her. In only the weak glow of a torch hanging on the wall, foreboding shadows hung over the planes of his face. His eyes were brighter than ever before, and Mary hated how hard they were to read. How could someone read them, or look into them long- they were like miniature light bulbs stuck into someones eye sockets; unnatural and expressionless. They weren't red like a horror story would say, but Mary hated them nonetheless.

Without warning, he left. She watched his retreating figure until it melted into the shadows half a minute later. Cold, tired and entirely heartbroken Mary observed her cell sullenly. She spotted a spider web in the nearest corner. She hated spiders. Normally she would have made her father kill the spider. Her father, her family. God, she missed them already; it wasn't fair.

She cried, all the tears she'd held escaping.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

Dejected, shaken, and once again feeling watched, she huddled against the stone wall. She continuously tugged down her sweatshirt to protect her freezing butt. Earlier, modesty had taken a backseat in the drama, replaced by more imperative concerns for her life. Now, with nothing to do, the whole day came rushing back to her, as did all her mistakes and stupidity. She was swimming in an ocean of self-loathing. What type of idiot can't even answer the simple question of 'what's your name' how could she have fucked that up? Why hadn't she asked for pants? It wouldn't of been hard to point to her legs, to someone else's pants, getting the point across.

A sinister tone whispered to her, they think you're a slut. You know what they do to sluts. Do you? They push them to the ground, tear clothes away like frothing animals. They're going to tear you apart. Inside and out. Mary had seen rape stories on the news, seen the cop shows, but that was different. What'd she'd been handed was worse. Savages, the lot of them. First the purple skin, then the goddamned green.

As if the creature had read her thoughts, Mary's head jerked towards the sound of the green creature coughing.

She'd died of fright the first time she'd seen the ugly thing. Her crying must have alerted it to her arrival. She'd thought she'd been alone in her grief, but then she'd heard it, a heavy shuffling of feet, the rattle of chains. She'd quieted, cleared her eyes and peered into the darkness, trying to pick out movement in the shadows.

Another human, she'd hoped, someone she could speak to, someone who'd tell her what was going on, who these people...things… were, what they wanted. Someone to comfort her. She'd wished for a companion, a confidant maybe, a human.

Instead, she got a monster.

His face had appeared before her like something from a nightmare; dark shadows cast under the ridges of his face. Then, half his body followed, the clinking of chains echoing through the dungeon. Green was all she saw. Some sort of inhuman green beast. He was huge, hunched over like some oversized gorilla, and everything about him hideous.

She'd yelped and scrambled away, thankful for the bars and space between them. What was that!? Was this what they thought of her? Did they think she was some sort of monster like him, with an ugly, twisted face covered in blotchy, bruised skin and a tree trunk of a torso lined with scars and scabs?

In the place where his eyes should have been, there was only shadows, a common theme in dungeons; but, she'd recognized the feeling of being watched. She'd understood none of what he'd said to her then, and she was thankful for it. When he finally settled back into the shadows, Mary had sighed in relief.

Not for the first time, she wondered how big this place was. How far underneath the earth did it stretch? What else was lurking down there? More green creatures? A normal person? First purple, now green, what was next? A cyclops, a dragon, giants spiders, zombies, Voldemort? The rows of cells seemed to go on and on until they melted right into the darkness. Whoever they were, Mary realized, they hadn't discovered electricity. It was like living in the dark ages, literally- the only source of light was a dying torch near the entrance to the stairwell that lead up to ground level, and it was far enough away that the light it cast was too weak to be anything but mocking.

Mary spent the night- or day, it was impossible to tell time, and it moved oh so slowly in a dungeon- half turned away from the green creature, back to a cell wall, facing a boringly similar wall a few feet from her face. Her cell was tall, tall enough that the towering purple people would be able stand up straight, and about two or three strides across in both directions. It was entirely of stone; some areas paved, other's just crudely carved rock. From one corner water dripped, the repetitious plink irritating. Roots had broken through some of the stones on the back wall, and Mary had stared at those for hours, pretending to see patterns in them.

Mary hadn't seen anyone since her kidnapper had abandoned her down here, sauntering off as if he'd had a successful day. Yes, Mary thought snidely, defeating an lost, untrained girl was clearly worthy of a pat on the back. She hoped he was damn happy with himself, even if he'd unintentionally saved her life. Mary could admit that much, without him, she'd would have died one way or another in that forest. Wilderness survival was not a strength of hers. So yes, she was grateful she'd been found, but hell would freeze over before she thanked him for it.

She was thinking of food when the came. The vision of steak and mashed potatoes vanished as the silhouettes of two figures entered from the stairwell. Both males, one taller and wider than the other. She watched them approach until they were right there, unlocking her cell, polite expressions, waiting for her.

She recognized one as the original purple skinned man, the other purple skinned man was unfamiliar. The new one said something, and Mary was immediately bothered by his gentle tone. She made a face at him, immature and unwise maybe, but it felt good. Both noticed, and she took small pleasure in the way their composure flickered. She didn't have to courage to not cooperate further, but he took her time standing, irked by their lying facial expressions. Where were their manners yesterday, when they threw her in a cell?

As she passed through the metal bars she felt like she'd been transferred from one cell to another, the way they guarded both exits, trapping her between them. In her cell she'd been safe, unbothered, and she struggled not to miss it. Where were they taking her? Where they going to torture her, kill her, let her go?

Mary jumped when, from within his cell, the green creature spoke. It sounded so biting and hateful Mary knew it didn't address her, but the two purple men. Overtop Mary's head, both men shared a look. Her captor was the one to reply, and his tone scathing enough for Mary to inch back.

After that they lead her back up the stairs. They were harder to go up, Mary noticed early on, than to go down. Her sleepless night with an empty stomach had done her no good, and it was taking it's toll. To her disappointment, when the reached the top, instead of taking her outside, they lead her into a back room. Their buildings seemed to have no doors, so she still had a relatively good view of a sunny day from the seat they all but pushed her into.

Her captor stood back, arms crossed. He was frowning at her, and the sight of him fed her hate. The other man stood closer, looking more curious than hostile.

"Myname," he greeted her, pointed to himself, "Galith," the other man, "Dorir."

Mary, having no effort to explain her name with the language barrier, nodded, albeit warily.

It became clear that he was some sort of translator. He said short phrases, giving her a hopeful look after each one. Most of them sounded the same, only one or two was easy to distinguish from the others. None of them sounded familiar. When she picked up on the game they were playing, a what-language-do-we-both-speak, she tried, she really did. Mary only knew English and a high school level Spanish, but she expected she would recognize many languages upon hearing them. Italian, Arabic, French, Russian, Portuguese, maybe. She'd heard them before, and if this man could speak one of those then maybe there was someone around who also spoke English.

However, despite their combined efforts, both ended up accepting defeat. The translator shrugged at the other one, speaking in their language. Sorry man, she imagined him saying, It's hopeless, I got nothing.

Both parties were observing the other. Their wordless silence was interrupted by Mary's stomach growling. The men shared a glance, again, before one said something to her, either a wait here I'll get food or a I'm going to devour your soul if you don't stay quiet, and left. Thankfully, when he returned he carried a loaf of bread.

Mary ate like a dying woman. Her full stomach gave her courage, and she even managed to motion for one of them to give her water too. The translator offered her his own, and she snatched it up without so much as a grateful smile. She shamelessly drank all of it, returning it to him feeling like she'd won a victory for some bizarre reason.

After returning the human to her cell, Dorir and Galith discussed their unexpected prisoner.

"...It's not normal." Dorir finished, glancing towards his friend, "Even here you can see the animals, the people even, avoiding her."

"I could feel it too," Galith agreed, "None of the humans I've met smelt like that."

Dorir scoffed, "She can't be human, not really. Nothing smells like that. Nothing like her. Besides, it's not just the smell. The power coming off her isn't right either, it's corrupt. You know how I found her? Around her everything had fled. Even the wisps ran from her, I didn't even know they could do that."

"They can." Galith, who was older, assured. "Though, it is uncommon. They do have an aversion to Blood Elves. Something about the magic. That's probably what they dislike about her as well."

"Maybe," the other muttered darkly, then accused: "You know what Huntress Aluria is going to do now, don't you."

Galith smiled, eyebrows raised. "We do share a… more profound bond." Then more serious, "She'll do what's expected." He shrugged. "The girl's human, let the other human's deal with her. We take responsibility for our people, they should do the same."

"Probably don't want trouble like that in their home either. Whatever she is, it's not good." Dorir, seeing his friends doubt, continued. "The way they animals fled, it wasn't natural. I could feel their panic."

Galith laughed, "Are you sure it wasn't your own? Besides, a human will be sent from Stormwind, and she'll be out of our hands, away from the woods."

Later, as expected, Huntress Aluria, the woman in charge of Astranaar's defenses, decreed that they had, "bigger problems." The letter had already been sent and transportation for the human was being prepared. They could return to focusing more worthwhile matters.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: so it caught my attention that I made some typos/errors in the last few chapters, really sorry about that. Whenever I finish a chapter I get so excited to post it that i don't bother to do more than a quick skim over for revision. I'll try and work on improving that haha. I've created a very basic layout for this story that's entirely susceptible to changing. Anyway...**

Chapter Four:

Adam thought his years of playing errand boy were behind him. He'd survived and completed his training. He was capable, more than capable if his teacher's praise was true. Now he was supposed to get his piece of he action. He was eager to travel farther and work harder. Fresh out of training, Adam was ready to prove himself, but how was he supposed to impress when they send him off to collect and escort some stray girl?

He'd received the letter this morning, personally handed to him by Lord Grayson himself. Finding himself on the receiving end of Grayson's infamous frown, Adam had done his best to appear confident as he listened to the master's words.

"Your trainer told me you were a good student, reliable, hardworking." Lord Grayson had begun, his single working eye squinting. "I don't know you myself, boy, but you're an official paladin now. There's a life of servitude to the Light and more importantly, the king, ahead of you." Adam had nodded then. "I'm not repeating what you read for yourself, so read this. " Adam accepted the parchment, "Do as you're told, and be quick about it."

"Yes, sir." He'd replied, as per custom. After that Lord Grayson left, without so much as goodbye. Paladins were taught to be courteous, but seeing as this was Lord Grayson, and not some quivering ten year old recruit, nobody was about to tell him off.

All recruits were required to live in the barracks until completing their training and reaching the highest level of mastery possible. Once they hit that point, they could either request a permanent residence in a place slightly nicer than the smelling, crowded, and teenage filled barracks, or move out and find their own home elsewhere. Adam, who'd disliked the barracks since first arriving nine years ago as an ten year old boy, had chosen to return to his family's city home.

It was empty after all. His father preferred their farm in Elywnn forest, tending the pumpkins with the same amount of love he raised his kids with, and his mother had been dead for years, since the birth of Catania. His sister, flighty and prone to love, had been jumping between the beds of her supposed 'true loves' for two years now, and neither Catania nor Adam had spoken to each other or their father in a while.

You'd think with only a year or so in age difference they would have been a certain closeness, but there had been none. Distant and squabbling as children, when ten year old Adam had run for the Cathedral, their relationship had gone from lacking to severely lacking. They were practically as difference as night and day. Adam, the pragmatic one, had been shaped by years of listening to words like loyalty, honor and strength. Meanwhile, Catania, spoiled by their father's mildness, had abandoned their father to his loneliness and hadn't stayed anywhere longer than few months ever since. When the sister and brother did communicate, it was short letters, informing the other of the basics, and those were far in between. The last time they'd spent time face to face was seven months ago, when Catania had spent a few weeks in Stormwind with her boyfriend at the time. Adam, feeling obligated, had met the man, some rich Lord's son. Unimpressive, summed up the meeting well. Still, Adam had learned that questioning his sister's taste in men resulted in memories he didn't like to recall.

So they stayed apart, loving each other in their estranged way. Because they did love each other, if only out of blood and a handful of fading childhood memories.

Adam sat on the bed in his small room. Some boxes lined the walls of the a tiny room, everything he'd accumulated over the years packed into them. It wasn't much, a few books, spare armor, random mementos. Luckily for him, the town house was already well furnished. He unfolded the letter, re-reading the disappointing words:

"_By the order of the Cathedral of Light and Magister Allison, Adam Wildeson, Paladin, is to go to Astranaar, the Night Elf camp in Ashenvale, and retrieve the human imprisoned there. Due to reports from Huntress Aluria, who holds the prisoner, said to be a young female, the prisoner is not dangerous. Expect complications with communication. She wanted by the mages of Stormwind and is to be kept alive and in good condition. Passage has been booked..."_

Outside the unclear line about communication, it was straightforward and boring. A game of fetch on a bigger scale. Furthermore, _tomorrow?_ A little more warning would have been nice. There'd have to be a change of plans for moving his belongings to the house. He'd planned on asking a friend for help carrying the stuff across town tomorrow, when most had time to spare; but now he'd have to do all of it himself, and soon. Stuffing the letter away, Adam grabbed the two nearest boxes. He was never one for procrastination.

As he lugged his stuff to the Old District, his mind tripped over itself trying to dissect his mission. With the vague description provided of a nonthreatening young female, he was unsure what the make of his soon to be prisoner. Night elves were notorious for not quite understanding human's, despite generations of being allies, and their idea of young was probably different from Adam's. Nonetheless, as soon as he read it, he'd pictured her as someone his sister's age. What she was doing all the way in Kalimdor though... It irked him not knowing the connection between her and the mages. Since when did harmless young girls warrant all this trouble?

Besides, he should be in Pandaria, where most adventurers had gone, or at least stationed somewhere to fight the Horde. He'd heard the rumors about tensions building and the Warchief's increasingly warlike actions. The troops in Warsong Gulch were returning with stories about the Horde's aggressive land grabs. It was said in Pandaria the two sides were at best, barely tolerating each other, and at worst, straight out battling. But no, he was assigned to travel a continent over, grab a girl, and wait out the sure to be boring boat ride back. Hopefully, Adam thought as he opened the door to his new home, the next few weeks would pass quickly, and next time the higher ups would assign him something more worthwhile. His low position wouldn't permit him to say it aloud, at least not sober, but the Alliance was wasting valuable men and women on silly things like runaway thieves- or whatever insignificant thing that girl was.

On the last trip back to his house, he heard his name yelled. "Hey! Adam!" the approaching figure called out, "What're you up to? I didn't see you around the cathedral today."

"Yvan," he recognized the redhead, "I'm alright." The other paladin matched his stride, half hidden from his view behind the boxes. "How are you?"

"Good, good," she chirped, "Trainer Arthur let us out early today. I was visiting a friend- do you need help with those boxes? What are you doing anyway? Finally get demoted to a lowly errand boy? I always knew you made a shitty paladin." Her laugh was contagious, and Adam found himself chuckling too.

"I make a better one than you, trainee. And the opposite actually," The smug tone couldn't be kept from his words, "you just insulted your superior. Lord Grayson handed me my first mission just this morning."

"No!" Yvan gasped, slapping his shoulder. "Congrats! So you're moving out already, huh? Eager to have your own place? I didn't know your family lived here. Thought you mentioned a farm."

"My father lives on a farm, yeah, but we have an old place here too. Right here actually," he stopped before the house.

"So, a mission. Sounds exciting! Off to highhandedly defeat the Horde masses and bring honor and glory to us all? I expect some gory and amazing stories when you get back. Leaving soon? When you get back, let me know, we have to get together so you can tell the lowly trainee about it!"

"Uh, yeah. Sounds great." Adam said, setting the boxes down at the doorstep. The door opened with a click, and when he went to grab the boxes again, he found one of them in Yvan's hands. He smiled, grabbing the remaining. "Thanks, just ah, follow me." He lead her inside, calling out the rooms as they walked through them, a halfhearted tour. "Kitchen, dinning room, living room... and stairs." Adam turned around after climbing the first steps, "You can put it down at the top."

"Stairs?" Yvan groaned, her arms already straining to hold up the box. She almost regretted offering to help. Almost. Besides, Adam didn't even seem to notice the two boxes he held, and the view of his forearms certainty brightened her mood. "You sure know how to make a girl breathless, Adam." The man in question snorted, and waited for Yvan to reach the top. A few moments later she was putting her box down, huffing as she did so. Her hands on her hips, she blew a stray hair from her face. "Nice place you got. Kinda big for just one guy."

His lips twitched up. "I'll make do somehow. Or maybe you'll just have to come over more often."

She laughed again. Yvan always laughed, Adam noticed. He liked that. "First you'll have to survive your mission. Hope you have a will laid out. But if you do come back in one piece," her face, already smiling, became softer, "we'll see."

"I'm afraid the cups would be dusty and I'm out of food, otherwise I'd offer you a-"

"It's fine," she brushed off his discomfort, "I should be getting back soon. Some of us still have curfew." And with that, Yvan all but skipped down the stairs, and out the door, shutting it loudly behind her.

In the sudden emptiness of the house, Adam rubbed the back of his neck. "Right."

* * *

One boring, week long, boat ride later...

Adam stepped onto the deck, taking in the Night Elf homeland for the first land. He'd known the island was actually a tree, but it was a concept hard to imagine, and it was awing to see for himself. It stretched up forever, until he lost himself in the massive branches. The village, the first step to his final destination, was hardly a village. Rut' Theran consisted of one sole building, a hippogryph keep or something, there was no sign, a flight path master, and a portal up to the capital, Darnassus. He eyed the thing with caution. It was glowing pink- not exactly shining beacon of safety.

Luckily for him, he didn't have to take the portal. After transferring some coins from one hand to another, the flight across the sea and over land passed quickly. The hippogryph knew the path well, expertly weaving over the land. Adam, however, was not appreciating the view beneath him. Anticipation had crawled it's way into his nerves ever since the ship had sighted land earlier that day. He'd successfully buried his nerves so far. It was a simple mission, a harmless charge. He envisioned how he'd greet them, Huntress Aluria specifically. He imagined the moment he returned to Stormwind; stepping onto the wooden docks there, prisoner in tow, successful, his master's already planning his next assignment, one to Pandaria.

When the hippogryph landed, he was smiling. It was easy to find the Huntress. She and another stood outside what he guessed was the prison. They exchanged the usual. He was the one sent for the human. Yes, the young female, and yes, he'd come as quickly as he could. No, he didn't wish to visit the inn, they'd be departing immediately. The Huntress herself had little to say, nodding to him once before leaving Adam with the other man, introduced as Galith.

Galith lead him down the stairs. In the dark, Adam's aura glowed, illuminating the bars of the cells on either side of him. It was a comfort, seeing the Light at work, even in such a meager way. As if noticing Adam's preoccupation, Galith spoke. "Are your eyes are suited to the darkness? I hear our vision at night is clearer."

"I've heard similar, but I am fine. How many prisoners do you have down here? These cells we've passed have been...empty."

"Just two." He sounded proud, "Few can handle the prison for long, and few get a chance too." His grin, like his words, had a vicious sliver in them.

Adam had expected his first meeting with his prisoner to be bland, filled with sneers and noncooperation. He couldn't have been more wrong. She must have heard them coming, because when they approached her cell, the girl was already up against the bars. Adam hardly had time to notice the orc in the cell opposite her before she was suddenly yelling at him, sounding ridiculously delighted.

Surprised, Adam glanced towards the elf, who didn't look half as startled. Galith had no time to speak though, because the woman was still babbling to him. More unsettling, he didn't understand a wit of what she said. It wasn't anything he'd ever learned. It explained what the letter meant when it said 'communication complications' what he was now realizing was the understatement of the year. . The relief on her face made him uncomfortable. She looked so _happy _to see him, carelessly gibbering on in that language of hers, utterly ignoring the night elf beside him.

When Galith opened the cell door, she all but ran over him, still talking. She looked up at him- she was rather short- and asked what sounded like a question.

He forced himself to return her smile, and hesitantly began, "I am Adam Wildeson." She blinked. "You are to be brought before the mages of Stormwind." Another blink. "Do you understand?"

She said something to him, and he took it as a no. She started to repeating herself, saying the phrase slowly, enunciating the bizarre words with care. Adam told her he didn't understand, which felt rather stupid seeing as she wouldn't understand that he didn't understand. "Do you not speak Common?" She looked at him blankly, eyes wide. He turned towards Galith, "You said you were a translator."

"I am." He defended, "She simply speaks no known language."

"None." Adam repeated.

"Also, have you noticed anything... ah... additionally unusual? Out of curiosity."

He frowned, observing her again. Her smile had contorted into something else, and she was blinking too much, Adam realized. She was about to cry. Problematic as that was, there was still something else. Something... deeper. Something. It...it was almost as if she was- "Are you sure she's human?"

The night elf smiled, pleased. "Exactly! The power she holds is, how to say it, not normal for a human. One could go so far to say it is corrupt. She has a rather strange effect on the forest wildlife. However, from what we can tell, despite her lack of understanding common, she is a human."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

Discomforted by his prisoner's bizarre reaction, Adam rushed away from the curious expressions, nodded curtly to the Huntress Aluria and Galith, who'd both come out to watch them leave.

Her tears had dried up as quickly as they arrived. By the time Adam had lead her out of the dungeon she'd calmed down significantly. It didn't go unnoticed by either man that the girl clearly preferred the other human. She avoided the Night Elves like the plague, practically clinging to Adam for life support.

Sure, some more sheltered people never totally adjusted to other races who walked down the streets of Stormwind, but usually their fears were regarding their cursed counterparts from Gilneas or the otherworldly Draenei. Adam wouldn't recall the last time he'd met someone terrified of Night Elves, but this girl was.

Had they treated her badly? She walked beside him, too close for his comfort, a little cut up and dirty, which made sense if she had been found in the forest, she showed no signs of outright torture, something the Alliance had long ago admitted to. Still, no elf had to right to torture a human, criminal or not. If they had laid a hand on her unjustly, he'd make sure others heard of it.

However, neither Huntress Aluria nor Galith had seemed idiots, and in comparison to the Orc sharing the dungeons, the human girl had been treated fairly.

The flight master was expecting them when Adam led his far too eager prisoner towards the hippogryphs. He was grabbing for his coins when he noticed the girl wasn't at his side. Alarm swept over him. His hand shot towards the hilt of his sword. So it began; no prisoner walked too willingly with their captor. He'd been waiting for her to try something. He would have been more surprised if she hadn't.

He was wondering which direction she'd run when he heard her garbled speak behind his back and he swerved around, his sword drawn.

She stood a few feet behind him, her mouth forming a surprise O, looking shocked. A few more words tumbled out of her mouth as she stared at the drawn weapon. With a sigh, Adam sheathed the sword. "Well come on then," he urged, reaching for her.

Thankfully, she obliged, yet her eyes had drifted over his shoulder, and she looked afraid again. Patience, Adam recalled his master's words, be patient.

He allowed her to remain behind him as he approached the Flight master a second time. It wasn't that he liked the idea of being unable to see her, but he sensed that she was trying to hide behind him. Absurd, but he didn't have it in him to be cruel. She was so young, and as Adam had just noticed, wearing a very short dress... At least that's what he thought it might be; that or she wasn't wearing pants. He'd get her some later.

When he offered his palm filled with enough coins for two hippogryphs, the flight masters snorted, taking only half of it from a distracted Adam, who was caught off guard when the night elf laughed, "That little girl wouldn't last a minute on one of my beauties alone. My gentlest would be too much for her to handle."

The paladin looked over his shoulder at the girl cowering behind him. When her eyes met his, Adam couldn't deny the fear in them. She was obviously afraid of the creatures. The night elf was right. With a huff, he agreed, and the flight master went to select his strongest. Adam turned to the girl, wanting to say something. Then he snapped it shut. Right, no common language. He settled for a forced smile, but the girl hardly looked comforted, especially not the way her eyes tracked hippogryphs behind him.

When she tugged at her shirt...thing... inspiration struck. She watched him curiously as he spoke, "I'll get you pants soon," he pointed to her legs, then his own. "Pants."

She understood, pointed to her own bare legs, "Pants?"

"Pants." He confirmed, and she smiled.

The flight master presented a hippogryphs then. Adam held onto the prisoners arm, slowly forcing her closer to the beast until he lifted her up, ignoring her yelp of protest, and placed her on its feathered back. The moment he let go, her fingers hooked into the ridges of his plate armor, clinging to him.

Her eyes were impossibly round when she started pleading with him. She tried scrambling off the hippogryph, which distressed both Adam and the beast itself. He had to pry her fingers from is chest plate, and then he held them at her sides. It was easy to overpower her, but the frantic look on her face was... discomforting. He had to take a deep breath before once again; he had to sooth his prisoner.

"Stop it." His tone was stern, "You need to stop." And that was all it took, she stopped struggling; choosing to instead regard Adam with doubtful look. Her eyes flickered from the hippogryph back to Adam, mumbling something.

When he climbed on behind her she sat up straight, stiff as a board. He pretended not to notice her flinch when he pulled her against his chest. As lightweight as she was, combined with her trembling and bound hands, if he didn't hold onto her she'd slip and fall straight to the ground. He could practically hear her thoughts, probably singing with indignation and fear. But, honestly, he didn't care.

Adam was tired, more uncertain about the way things were unfolding than he would admit, and still bitter for being assigned this mission. So the girl didn't speak their languages; so what? If that was the problem they should have sent a proficient translator. Why Adam? He'd keep her alive; deliver her to the mages, which was obviously going to be easy. But his pride strung; did they not think him capable of greater things than this? She was probably just someone's important daughter or something. What else could she be? If she actually was dangerous then she was also an incredible actress. Adam would bet she'd never killed a thing in her life.

His arms reached around both sides of her to grab the reins. She sat tense, refusing to lean against him. A small part of him was grateful for the distance between them, but a larger part was irritated. Her bound hands provided little opportunity for the girl to balance herself and the way she fidgeted in a saddle screamed inexperience and unease. Had she never flown before? It seemed unlikely, how else could she have traveled so far from Stormwind, surely not on foot. Yet the fear she had for the night elves, for the hippogryphs, it was like she'd never seen any of it before. Maybe she hadn't? Was it possible to be that sheltered and isolated?

After a short nod to the flight master Adam signaled the creature to move, and as it leapt into the air, unfolding its wings to their full length. They extended longer than Adam was tall, glittering with thousands of feathers emerald and indigo. The girl inhaled sharply, jerking against him momentarily before remembering herself, and immediately leaning away from Adam again. The hippogryph took to the air with its powerful wings pounding against the wind, taking the duo higher and higher until they were flying far above the once towering trees. As the hippogryph settled into a familiar path Adam relaxed into his seat, loosening his grip on the reins as the creature lead itself.

Having nothing to do, his attention turned the girl in front of him. Even sitting she was shorter than him, her blonde head not even reaching his chin. Despite her dirty appearance she looked well fed and cared for. She resembled none of the starving homeless he had seen wandering Westfall or Stormwind's streets. Wherever she'd come from she hadn't worried for food. The clothing she wore was unlike anything he'd seen. Cloth or wool perhaps and so finely sewn he could not make out one stitch from another. It was big on her, unless it was intended to be so large, and loose, hiding her figure beneath completely. A hood was attached to it, and the strange symbols on the front had been foreign to him.

Her legs, Adam kept himself from glancing at the exposed skin, were partially covered by the big shirt thing and buying pants would be the first thing he did when they landed. She was probably a few years younger than he, and it hadn't escaped his notice that she was pretty beneath the tears and dirt. But, it felt wrong to look at her that way. Earlier when his gaze had lingered on her legs he'd felt ashamed; he'd almost apologized for his leering before remembering his place. He was in charge here; he was above her, a strong, unwavering soldier. Apologizing would not make her fear him. She was his prisoner, a criminal; someone wanted by Stormwind enough that she warranted an escort above the average guard, not some pretty girl in the streets. They were not equals here.

He watched her as she observed her surroundings. Her profile appeared on the left and then the right as she glanced to both sides, taking in the impressive view of Ashenvale, it's green forests stretching on and on until meeting the ocean on one side and though too distant on the horizon to see, Adam knew enough geography to remember that the Northern Barrens lay in the other direction- Horde territory.

He felt her shift, she probably didn't even realize it, but she was inching closer to him. She was still afraid, he thought, not the slightest surprised. Flying had frightened him once upon a time, the possibility of falling enough to concern anyone with instincts. He'd overcome it ages ago though, and now he had more immediate worries for things on a grander scale. Who would worry about heights when there was a war to win?

After watching the ground below shift from one forest to another and then become see, they reached Rut'Theran Village. The girl spotted it before he did, having been lost in his own thoughts. She sat up straighter, the sudden movement jolting Adam back to present time. They hadn't been in the air long. The return flight had seemed much shorter than the first. The fog cleared away and they descended towards the small village. Adam noticed the absence of a ship at the dock. Good, they would have time to travel to Darnassus. A few supplies would be welcome during the drudgery of the ride home.

After landing Adam helped his prisoner off the creature, being incapable of doing it herself because of the bindings without falling. The rope was becoming more and more of a hassle. Adam forehead crinkled, wondering if it might be easier just to take the bindings off.

He let go of the girl, but like before, she kept close to his side, watching the nearby elves with distrust. People seemed to forget that their allies were just as capable of crime as the Horde was. Just because someone flew the same banner didn't make them above the law. Adam felt strongly justice being handed out, regardless of race. Just because she was human too she would get no special treatment from him. Though he did not know it, to his prisoner, their shared humanity currently meant the world to her. She'd likely allow him anything, being so relieved by the presence of another 'normal person.'

Adam blanched as he stood before the pink glow of the portal. It was the most reasonable and easiest way to Darnassus. Quick, and if all was as it should be, harmless. He glanced longingly towards the flight master. Would it really be so foolish, he debated, to instead fly to the city?

"How may I help you?" A musical voice questioned. Adam turned towards the guard who'd spoken. He'd been standing there too long.

Adam hoped his hesitation hadn't been that obvious. "We're fine." He snapped. The guard, offended, turned away with a huff.

Annoyed with himself, Adam forced himself into action, dragging the girl in behind him as he stepped into the portal. It was just as he remembered. His vision clouded, and all he saw was pink. The air hummed with power, and for a second he was trapped there. An undercurrent of power ran through the air, vibrating with energy. Adam felt the girl grab his arm. Then, with sudden force of a hurricane, the two felt a blast of energy around them. Suddenly they were weightless, and then around them was the ancient city of Darnassus, capital of the night elven civilization, standing with the same beauty it'd held for ages.

Once free of the glow of the portal, Adam allowed himself to relax, his shoulders sagging from the released tension, and he ran a hand through his dark hair. The girl, still clinging to his free arm, he shrugged off. Since the food provided aboard the ship was downright inedible, Adam chose to buy some in the city, along with some pants for the girl, before returning to Rut'Theran for their booked passage home.

When he took a step forward the girl reached out, her two bound hands grabbing his own hand. He turned to her sharply. He wanted to shake her off again and he wished she spoke Common so he could finally question her. "What?" He demanded, knowing whatever garbled conversation they had would make no sense to either of them.

She was taken aback by his tone, mumbling something in her own language as she stared at her toes, releasing his hand slowly so it could hang limply at his side.

Her hurt expression brought forth a twinge of guilt, and he remembered she was just a girl, not an enemy charging him on the battlefield. It was unkind to take his frustrations out on her, when she was not the cause of them.

"I'm sorry." He apologized briskly, solely for his own conscious, doubting she understood what his insincere tone meant. He turned away from her then, and searched out the nearest inn.


	6. Chapter 6

**to all those who have reviewed, thank you so much! they motivate me to keep writing :D also, I hope my writing is improving as i go, and I'm not very proud of the first few chapters anymore, so at some point i might go back and rewrite them. if i do, I'll make sure to mention it. Let me know what you think of Adam and Mary so far. There are a few ways their relationship could go**

Chapter 6

Stunned, Mary was stunned. Amazed, awe stuck, bamboozled, however one phrased it, Mary couldn't believe what was before her eyes and that seemed to be a reoccurring theme. First the purple people, then the flying bird-lions, then the glowing, magical, transporting thing and now this? Mary had seen Greek and Roman ruins before in books and on TV, but this place was much more. It was impossible to watch where she walked and take in the mystical buildings around her. Everything was elegant, finely made and somehow almost alive. Even the marble- maybe it was marble, honestly Mary didn't know types of stone- seemed to hum with life, entangled in vines and shimmering in scattered trails of sunlight that peaked through the foliage. Farther ahead, beyond one of the many impossibly large trees, stood, as if out of a fairy tale, a palace. She could make out its dome, the equally balanced and distanced columns, the archways, even the small figures of guards patrolling the walkways.

What was this place? Something so magnificent couldn't be hidden from the world, could it? There was little unexplored lands left on earth, so how could this place have been left unmentioned? Never had she heard about this town in tourist brochures, documentaries or history books. Before, she'd had some hope, some far-stretched rationalizations, but now? Mary could no longer deny that this was not her home, it wasn't Earth.

An impulsive tug at the mans arm and he whirled around, angry words flew from his mouth. Gaping at the sudden hostility, Mary shied away. What was she thinking? She'd forgotten he wasn't a friend; she couldn't go around treating him like one. Studying the filthy amount of dirt beneath her toenails, she apologized quickly. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I, uh, yeah, sorry."

There was a pause before he replied, calmer. Mary took it as forgiveness, peeking up at him just in time to see his back walking away. A yelp, and she rushed over to him. It struck her as odd that he would be so careless of a captor. She walked behind him half the time, out of sight. It was like he wanted her to try and escape. He either knew he would catch her if she tried escaping, or he believed that she wouldn't even try, which was true. Once again Mary found herself preferring captivity to the loneliness and fear that'd follow running away. Instead of him chasing after her, it was the other way around, as if she wanted to be a bound captive! But what alternative did she have? Besides, whatever he intended couldn't be too horrid right? He seemed nice enough, and from a certain perspective, he had rescued her.

Mary frowned. Yes, from a dungeon to this. Hardly an improvement. She was trusting him only because of his humanity. Naive, she scolded herself. But, she couldn't help it. He was the first other human she'd met here, how could she not trust him, if only more so than the purple skinned people?

He lead her around a big tree that lay in the center of a tiny island. Guards stood at either side of an entrance that lead up to the tree, where three purple men stood inside it. Behind them was gold. Mary had never seen so much, all stacked in half-collapsed towers and pushed into messy mounds. The human approached the center one, who's eyes flickered towards Mary, it's freakish eyebrow twitching. She intended to stand a few feet behind, but the creeping awareness that she was surrounded by more inhuman creatures quickly pulled her back to the man. She waited patiently; there was an exchange between the two, and the man received a pouch of what could only be gold placed into his hand.

He turned around and startled at her proximity. His eyes widened and then narrowed. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but did not, instead watching her suspiciously.

The tense moment passed, and he moved around her, telling her something in his own language. He looked at her expectantly, motioning for her to follow. She did so, sparring a glance towards the bystander's who'd noticed the odd pair.

As he lead her deeper into the city, the age old saying "it's rude to stare" came to mind, yet it was hard not to. Mary felt her staring did no harm, and curiously fearful, she gave herself whiplash trying to take in everything. She managed to observe everything quietly until she watched as a purple man leapt into the air and suddenly disappeared, replaced by a dark bird that flew off. She stood gaping at the spot where a man had once stood. Seconds after and Mary already was in disbelief. She shook her head, rubbed her eyes and looked around. Had no one else seen that? Was that normal? Did that even happen? Was she seeing things?

To her horror, her faith in her sanity evaporated when she spotted something else further away. Walking freely towards her, it's strides loping and long just like the animal it resembled, was a...a... Mary didn't dare to name it. She was in denial and shock and she couldn't find her breath and she couldn't find the man and she was lost and it was approaching her, it had noticed her petrified stare and she was shaking and and and...

A strangled gasp escaped her and she bolted. She turned on her feet and _ran._

Where was the man? Where did she go? Everywhere were the purple skinned people? She was being chased, it was chasing her, Mary could feel it on the most basic level of instinct. Running faster she barely avoided knocking down an unaware guard who then yelled, chasing after her as well. She whirled around a corner, desperate for a place to hide, and slammed into something face first.

The force of the collision knocked her to the ground, hitting the ground painfully. The air was ripped from her lungs, and she was stunned motionless. Slowly her mind pieced together what had happened. Running, hit wall, fall.

She'd managed harsh gasp when she recognized the sound of someone speaking to her. Her eyes opened. Glaring down at her was the man, his expression unreadable. She blinked up at him, abruptly grateful to have found him. And she told him, "I couldn't _find _ you anywhere. There was..." she trailed off in her bewilderment. What had she been doing? Where had he come from?

The man in question was more in control of himself. He lifted Mary off the ground with ease, eyeing her like a wild animal. Before either of them could say more, the guard from before found them and there was murder in her eyes. She seethed, arguing furiously with the man. The man responded calmer, probably apologizing or something, Mary figured. She wondered what was going to happen to her. She'd run away, hadn't she. Something neither of them had apparently thought she'd actually do. In her own defense, she hadn't been trying to escape. She'd just been afraid.

Suddenly feeling ridiculous, she shuffled tried to shuffle out of sight, but the man's hand shot out to grab her, preventing her from hiding behind him.

She kept her eyes on the ground until the other arrived. Her ears perked up at the sound of its arrival, and when she flinched away when it spoke. Whatever it said, Mary suddenly had the all three pairs of eyes on her and she dared not meet any of their stares. Instead she curled her toes into the dirt, worming them into the dark ground.

Mary breathed easier when the woman stormed off, but still she refused to look up. She was determined to wait until the other left. Seeing it once had been enough, and Mary would prefer to pretend she'd never seen it in the first place, like it didn't exist.

She nearly cried out in relief when it left. The man pulled her towards him, making her face him. Mary braved a peek up at him; he was frowning, forehead wrinkled in concentration. She shrugged weakly beneath his gaze, already stumbling over another apology. "I didn't mean to run off," she mumbled, "sorry."

He replied in his own language, huffing in frustration.

"It won't happen again," she assured him, half expecting an enraged outburst. But there was none.

After that he kept a better eye on her.

She doubted he really knew what had happened; it had happened too unexpectedly. She'd been fine, considering, but then the possible hallucination of the bird-man and then the, god, Mary shivered just thinking about it. Purple and greened skinned people could be accepted easily enough. Discriminating on skin pigment was archaic at this point. While those two types of people, Mary supposed, had more than just unusual skin colors to set them apart from her own people, they just didn't... She sighed, hardly understanding it herself. Maybe it was because they were so new; Mary had never heard tales of green skinned and purple things, they had no reputation of horror; but, the, the _werewolf?_ She'd heard tales of those before, and to see one before her, the mass of dark fur and claws, had been too much.

She hadn't forgotten how civilly it had been allowed to walk among the others. Were they commonplace here? Mary had glimpsed one or two more since the confrontation and neither time had they been eating human flesh nor frothing at the mouth. However, she had heard one howl, and she'd felt her skin prickle in alarm. It was like straight out of a dark horror story.

For the most part she paid little attention to the man, only being sure to keep him within her sight at all times. She followed him as he spoke to a few people, bought some things with his recently acquired money, and then into one of the wooden structures she'd seen everywhere in the city. It was like an house, but with less walls. She was wondering the merits of such openness when she something the man said caught her attention. She didn't recognize it at first, but she nearly chuckled when she realized he had just called her Myname.

Her mind went blank when he handed his most recent purchase to her. She looked at the bundle in her arms then back at him, unsure if this was what she thought it was. He'd given Mary pants, and for some reason she could not believe it.

"Are these for me?" A stupid question maybe, but she had to ask.

He seemed to understand, nodding slowly.

She didn't realize she'd been blatantly staring till the nearby purple skinned merchant started laughing. The noise shook her from her stupor, and it clicked. She finally had pants, something she'd been begging for since she first arrived the other day. Her mood lifted noticeably. They were made of some sort of thick material, sort of like sweatpants, and they had no design, just a simple pale red color. She put them on then and there, forgetting her audience. With her legs covered for the first time since arriving, she felt a thousand times more secure, safer even. Warmth spread through her as she grinned up at the man. Too busy appreciating her new clothing she didn't even notice the blush that'd risen to his cheeks.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

After the pants were paid for Mary followed the man to the small village where they'd first arrived. The walk back was brisk, and after Mary stumbled into one too many people, the man gave up and was forced to walk ahead of her once more, parting the crowd with his broader build.

It was still mid-day as they stood at the end of the pier. Mary chose to sit, hanging her feet over the edge. The man watched her.

Water could be heard sloshing about beneath and Mary focused on the familiar sound to steady herself. She wondered what ocean it was. Atlantic, Pacific, Indian? Was it any of them? As much as she wished, it was difficult to believe this was some distant unexplored part of Earth. Ironically enough, it was more logical to assume there was magic involved in her sudden arrival to this place. She'd never believed in magic before, but it seemed the only option at the moment, bizarre as it was.

How was she going to get home? Mary's thoughts drifted to her home, her room, and her parents. Already, it had been a day- were they looking for her? Did they think she ran away? They wouldn't would they? How could they? Mary had tried hard, she'd done what everyone asked, made them happy. She was a good kid: no drugs, no crazy boyfriends, no failing grades, Mary's life had been good! What if they thought she'd wanted to leave? Did they hate her? Were they even looking for her? She could imagine their disappointed faces already, scorning their second child. She could see it, so clearly, too clearly.

Mary wasn't surprised when tears started falling. The frustration was not an unfamiliar feeling.

But Mary had always preferred to suffer in silence and the man was still watching her, like he didn't know whether to yell at her or comfort her. She hadn't forgotten his presence, but tears were impossible to stop most often.

She gathered up the courage to meet his eyes. They were guarded, as if she was going to attack at any moment. The laughable idea made her do just that, laugh. It came out more of an ugly and choked sob though.

She broke the eye contact, embarrassed. Mary didn't have to look away from the wooden boards to know his gaze hadn't wavered. Wouldn't he just look away already? It was like being beneath a microscope, all her faults for the world to see. Mary hated it. Ever since she'd woken up here she'd felt eyes on her.

It was a heavy silence.

Eventually she spoke. "I didn't mean to do that." The apologetic tone couldn't be missed.

He didn't respond. Instead the man only grunted, uneasy, and shifted away to look expectantly at the open waters. Mary chose to focus on her pants. It was much better to be wearing some, but their pathetic quality couldn't be missed. They were nothing like her pants from home. The needlework, crude; colors, faded; material, warm yet scratchy. Mary miserably wished for her jeans, the worn in pair with faded knees that looked the cutest. Those had made her feel pretty. These pants only reminded her how far from home she was.

For the remainder of their waiting the pair was silent, besides the occasional sniffle from Mary, who couldn't help it.

The sun was still high in the sky when the boat arrived. First only the top of the sail was visible, and then slowly more and more of the ship emerged into view until finally the whole thing was visible and steadily growing closer. Mary pushed onto her feet, wishing her hands weren't bound.

There was no welcome or signal for it's arrival. None of the crew paid them any mind as the man lead her below decks. There it was dark and damp and not at all like the cruise ship Mary had once traveled on. It reminded her drearily of the dungeon with it's limited space, stale air, and unfriendly faces. Mary wanted to return to the open pier, especially when she later felt the ship shudder and creak as it set sail. She prayed it didn't sink.

The pitiful cabin they were given had no window. Mary regarded the two beds and the small table with it's lone chair. She suspected there were rats too.

The door closed with a groan. The man stepped around her, setting down some of his things on the table. Mary didn't have to wait long for his attention to return to her and her shoulder's hunched from his blatant scrutiny. His fingers drummed over the wooden table.

His hand swept over the table, rose to his chest, and tapped. "Adam."

"Adam?" She repeated, then, "Mary."

A lone wrinkle for between his eyebrows. "Myname?"

She shook her head. A gesture in his direction, "Adam," one in her own, "Mary." Mary smiled when Adam appeared to understand. At least someone knew her actual name, she found it comforting.

Adam didn't stay still long. He pointed toward the far bed. "Mary." The other was his he said. She repeated dutifully, "Mary...Adam," and nodded. However, he pointed to her bed again, and this time waved her towards it. She obeyed, and was pleasantly surprised to find it soft and inviting. He said something in his own language then, and of course all Mary recognized was her own name.

Whatever he was saying, he said with a determined look on his face. Sounding stern, but still frustrated. Mary wondered if he the language barrier as annoying as she did.

After sending a hard look her way, Adam exited the room.

"Oh," She mouthed, finally understanding what he'd been saying. He wanted her to stay put. But where had he gone? She sat up straighter, he wasn't leaving her was he? She stood, debating whether to follow after him. Was only she taking the boat? What would she do alone? What would she do? Fear seeped into her. But still, she was hesitant to leave the room, instead standing there unsure.

Suddenly, she remembered how he'd claimed the second bed as his own and noticed his cloak and loaf of bread still lying on the table. Relief was sweet. Of course! He would come back. Her face split into a smile, amused by her foolish panicking. Relieved, she sat back down.

In the solitude and silence everything came creeping back to her. The beasts, the dungeons, the city, her running through it, the pink transporting thing. Those sort of things didn't exist! It was like out of a fictional book, fantasy, all of it. Yet it all felt real and she'd long since determined that it was not a dream. Mary couldn't rationalize it. It was so outlandish, all of it. And the way they dressed! It was like out a medieval movie or a renaissance fair. She just wanted to go home.

Tired and confused, Mary shook herself from those thoughts, and instead focused on the bed beneath her. The mattress was soft enough and the blanket thick. The rope binding her wrists made it a struggle but eventually Mary was curled beneath the blanket. Warmth built up quickly, and soon, despite being mid-day, Mary grew drowsy and drowsier until she fell asleep.

* * *

Sadly, the moment Mary was awoken all her worries returned to her. She was not graced with a period of blissful forgetfulness. The sight of Adam leaning over her, removing his hand from her shoulder sparked a burst of energy in her, and Mary sat up quickly, wiggling out of the blankets.

He sat at the table, tearing off hunks of bread. After a moments consideration, she approached, watching for any sudden shifts in his expression. His eyes looked up from beneath his brows, half hidden. Mary held her breath, anxious how he would act. His fingers drummed the table again. A habit of his, she realized. He lightly commented in his own brusque language and offered her some of the bread. She was focusing on now letting her hands brush his when she clumsily dropped the bread.

The hunk of bread landed with a crunch, and bounced a single time.

Both of them had looked toward the noise, yet neither moved. Mary wiggled her fingers nervously, silently chiding herself for not minding the rope. She hadn't adjusted to them and they had begun to chaff with harsh movements.

Tension hung in the air. Mary stood frozen, her wide eyes unable to hold the man's gaze long, her grey eyes slanting between the floor boards and Adam. They regarded each other, waiting to see which would act first.

It was Adam who bent down and retrieved the troublesome bread. He motioned for her to come nearer, and Mary did cautiously. Her eyes didn't stray to the bread when he put it down, instead she was watching Adam, and when he pulled out a knife, she inhaled sharply.

The noise caught Adam's attention, who only then seemed to notice his threatening action. His expression lost some of it's roughness and the words he murmured sounded almost like an apology. Still, he ushered her forward, and when she did so he grabbed her hands. Mary startled at the contact, and the idea of pulling away crossed her mind. However, before she could really regret her action, the knife slipped between her hands, and with the flip of his wrist Adam jerked the knife up.

He must have found Mary's astonished expression comical because he chuckled, put the knife away, and offered Mary her portion of the bread. Dumbly, she took it and retreated back to her bed.

While she sat there, reviewing what had just happened, it hit her that she hadn't thanked him. "Thank you!" Mary blurted. "That was um, nice of you." Then a few seconds later she added, "I know you can't understand me. It's nice to be around another person, just so you know." Under Adam's questioning gaze she fidgeted, running her freed hands over the red skin on her wrists. "I promise not to attack you or anything now...you know, since you freed my hands." The words left a sour taste in her mouth when Mary realized that perhaps she shouldn't be thanking his just yet.

Berating herself and feeling stupid, Mary ignored him and finished her 'meal.'

However her curiosity eventually overwhelmed her embarrassment and it wasn't long before she found herself sneaking looks his way. Wondering where he was taking her and why she had been taken in the first place. Did they know she wasn't from around here? Could they help?

As time stretched on and on Mary wished the man would leave the cabin again. Her muscles wouldn't relax with him around, and her brain was soaking up everything about him. It was like a feeding frenzy of observation, she couldn't help it. He didn't look too much older than her, about the age to be in college. Where his height was impressive, so was his build. Even with the help of his armor he formed an imposing figure. His hair was brown and untidy, but more importantly it framed a nice face. To call him 'cute' would be ill-fitting. He wasn't cute he was-

Abruptly it dawned on Mary what she had been doing, and she felt her face heat up. Blatantly staring at him as if he hadn't dragged her around with her hands tied by ropes! Frustrated, she huffed angrily, burying her face in her hands. Fawning over this man- really, she scolded, of all the inappropriate things to do.

He was handsome, but she didn't care. No, she wasn't going to be some stupid girl who lost her mind at the first sign of an attractive man. Besides, he wasn't even that nice to look at all. He'd snapped at her, he kept her as his _prisoner _for crying out loud. _But he'd also gotten her pants and cut the rope from her wrists, _taunted a small part of her. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled, trying to regain some resemblance of reason. Mary refused to allow herself to have a...a crush on the man. She wasn't in middle school anymore, and she'd already had her required amount of unrequited crushes. Never again.

Confident in her assessment, Mary lifted her head from her hands, only to find the man, _Adam, _she remembered, watching her. He looked troubled, Mary noticed. His unease increased when he met her eyes.

Mary listened closely as he spoke to her. He spoke with a drawl, drawing out each word and leaving considerable gaps between, but still Mary did not understand. When she shrugged, he tried again with a different language, but the result was the same.

As if doubting her intelligence, he reverted to the basics. "Adam. Mary." She nodded, and the next unfamiliar phrase he uttered contained her name. When her lack of understanding became clear he ran a knuckle across his jaw, regarding her thoughtfully.

During their staring Mary thought about her Spanish class. When their teacher insisted they speak no English many of them reverted to merely pointing and looking questioning. Pleased with herself, she went through the motions of saying their names and then pointed to the bed. "Mary. Adam. Bed."

"Bed." Adam repeated, smiling and suitably impressed. Soon the two began sharing more words, and by the end of the afternoon Mary had learned a handful of new words. It wasn't much, and she doubted the word for cloak would ever save her life, but it gave her hope. If she learned enough words, she could explain what had happened and then they could help her go home.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: here's the new chapter. It took me longer to upload this one, life's been busy and I've always preferred reading fanfiction to writing it myself. It's hard! anyway, here it is. please please please REVIEW! **

Chapter 8:

It was midday. Or so Mary assumed, with the hustle and bustle she heard from the deck above and the second meal of the day being served just then. So far the day had been better than the day before, or really any of the days she'd spent in this place.

In the cabin, which Mary thought would be pleasantly cozy if she hadn't heard the scuttling of rats across the floor, she felt almost safe. Nobody ever entered the room aside from Adam, the blankets were warm, and that morning when she'd awoken Mary had almost believed she was still at home for a few wonderful moments. Then of course the secure feeling vanished as she opened her eyes to see the man swinging his sword through the air just feet from her bed.

She'd jumped at the sight, more afraid of the man than she'd been since he'd dragged her onto that flying beast. Her surprised yelp must have startled him too, for he fumbled, nearly dropped the huge weapon. He must have been practicing, and Mary swore he looked embarrassed for a moment before he collected himself. She expected some sort of rebuke or glare after that, but instead he'd put the sword down, and gave her a quick, "Hello."

Mary, eager to use her new, simple vocabulary, forgot her fear, and replied, "Hello. Good morning." It felt nice to talk to someone again. And when the man said nothing otherwise, Mary was pleased to know she hadn't butchered the words either. Neither said nor moved for a few seconds, and braving a 'conversation,' she pointed towards his sword, which he'd begun admiring again, "sword?" she asked in English.

He blinked at the foreign language before realizing what she meant. The man ran a finger down the flat side of the blade, feeling the grooves of the carved designs with a smile. He answered, and Mary tucked the word away for future use. He'd gestured toward the food laid out on the table, "food," he said.

After Adam left the cabin and Mary had busied herself with eating breakfast, her fears and uncertainty began to thrive in the quiet. They had become repetitive and uncreative, but that didn't make them any less frightening or possible. Was he taking her home? To someone who could help? Why had he freed her hands, why had they been bound in the first place? Why did he have a sword not a gun, why was he wearing armor like a knight, and where were they going? It was all so absurd.

So, when Adam finally returned with lunch, Mary welcomed the distraction his presence provided. Lunch turned out to be the same food they'd had earlier in the morning, and Adam proved just as talkative. Mary considered starting a conversation, if there monosyllabic interactions could be called that, but his grim expression prevented her. Mary wondered what she would say anyway. She'd like to know what the word for boat was, and then on that train of thought attempt to learn "go," but the way he was glaring at the table was more than enough to dissuade her. It was tense, and Mary sat in the wooden chair, unsure where to look, or how to act, feeling like a mouse before a tom-cat. So she waited, and hoping he would either leave or speak.

And then he did.

She was so lost in her relief when he opened his mouth to speak that she entirely missed what he said. It took a few moments of him watching her confused face before he repeated himself slowly, the words blurring together into one string of foreign language. Mary shrugged helplessly when the words were utterly unfamiliar to her. Adam narrowed his eyes, and they swept over Mary. She watched with held breath when he offered up a letter, his hand outstretched across the table towards her. Mary looked between the man and the paper, only taking the paper when he grew impatient.

It was folded- hamburger style, she thought with a hidden smile- and she opened it. The words and letters were as strange as the spoken language was. There seemed to be no trace of the latin based alphabet. The script flowed elegantly, almost a work of art in itself. Pretty or not, the words meant nothing to her, and with another quick scan over it, Mary looked back towards Adam, confused.

Seeing this, he laid the flattened the letter out on the table, and tapped his finger over certain words; speaking to her again. One thing he continued to repeat, "Stormwind."

"Stormwind?" Mary asked hesitantly.

"Stormwind." He pronounced it slightly differently. "Adam. Mary. Stormwind."

"Stormwind?"

"Stormwind."

She hummed quietly, not seeing the what importance the word had. Was it a person? Their stalemate frustrated Adam, Mary could tell as he roughly took the letter back. Abruptly he stood. Mary looked away, thinking he'd given up. An unpleasant sensation curled inside her that was was unable to determine, it scratched at her confidence, and suddenly she felt like hiding.

Adam's footsteps were loud against the wooden floor. Mary listened as they lead towards the door and stopped. Mary looked at her hands, splayed out in her lap, listening closely for the sounds of him opening the door. Seconds passed but the telltale thump of heavy boots on wooden planks didn't come, nor did the creak of an old hinge.

She was picking at her nails behind a curtain of blonde when he came and stood before her. She dared a quick glance up, only making eye contact for a second before looking away again. He stepped forward, and she stiffened. He noticed, straightened up, and backed off, sitting down at the table across from her once more. Mary relaxed with the distance between them.

Adam pulled out the paper again, and laid it on the table, blank side up. He was still for a moment, thinking. Then he began to draw. Mary leaned forward, watching with interest as two simple figures were drawn, one with longer hair.

Her lips tilted up. Adam's eyes lifted off the paper and met hers, then quickly flitted back to the paper again, a smile on his own face. Next was a poorly drawn boat, floating on squiggly lines for water. She interrupted him then, and tapped the boat.

"Ship." He supplied, and then the squiggles beneath it, "water." Pleased, he drew a castle surrounded by houses. Mary liked that he drew them the same way she once had: squares with triangles on top. Above the castle, he wrote something out. "Stormwind," he read aloud. Between the boat and castle he drew an arrow.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, observing the crudely drawn castle and houses a second time. So they were going to Stormwind. The name was unfamiliar to her, and it didn't escape her notice that he drew a castle and not say, a skyscraper. It fit with the knightly image, and the old style ship. None of it made sense.

She remembered the rope around her wrists, and the dungeon and her smile slipped. What lay ahead of her? How strange too, that she was suddenly not minding the man's company, when just days ago she'd been locked in a dungeon. Images of the dank stone prison, her bizarre and inhuman captors, and the creature across from her. Mary shivered, hoping to relive the experience.

XX

The following afternoon she decided she wanted to go on the deck and breath in the fresh air. The comforts of the cabin had diminished as bored and awareness of the nose-wrinkling smells grew. Her hope was easy enough to communicate to Adam. All it took was the repeated use of "ship" and pointed upwards, and he got the idea quick enough.

Immediately he said, "No," followed by a string of unfamiliar words including her name, and then again strongly: "no."

Surprised by his adamant reaction, Mary let it go, afraid to push the usually aloofly polite man any further. Did he think she would try and escape? With the ropes and prison cell behind her, the girl had to admit she was no longer an unwilling prisoner. His company was the best she'd been forced into yet, though that said little. Couldn't he see there was no where for her to run, and more importantly that she wouldn't run?

Shame crept up as she remembered her escapade through the eerily ancient city. She'd fled in her panic upon seeing the furry creature. It'd looked like a monster that had jumped straight from a horror movie. Except, she recalled, it had been wearing clothes. Or, this places outdated form of clothing. The plate and mail, the swords, the leather… she didn't like how different it was. It made her dreadfully homesick when she thought hard about how different it was here. So mostly she tried not to think of home at all, but generally she was pretty bad at preventing those thoughts.

The boat had been sailing smoothly, nonstop, since their departure from the village and Mary was curious how much farther they had to travel till they arrived in Stormwind. Stormwind: she couldn't get the city out of her mind. What was it like? Was that a local name for another city perhaps? Still there remained a small sliver of hope that this had all been some sort of bizarre misunderstanding, that somehow she'd be home again. Home with her laptop, her bed, her new paints and her family. But once again, Mary tried not to think about that.

Adam had left her to go up on deck, not offering to take her with him. Mary's faced scrunched up thoughtfully as she questioned why he wouldn't let her go. Was it a secret? What was being kept from her? It grew more boring by the second down in the cabin, with only a stale loaf of bread and the quill she and Adam had used the other day, with the black ink dried on it's tip. The thought drew her eyes to the table, where it still lay.

Uncurling from her position on her bed, she approached the table and sat. The quill was unremarkable in every way except Mary had never seen one before. It looked much like a normal feather, with the tip of it stained black. She rolled it between her fingers experimentally.

Quickly enough her fascination with the old writing utensil faded, but not before an idea came to mind. Her fingers itched to paint, but to draw would be good enough. Seeing Adam sketch on the letter the day before had reminded her of her own sketchbook, and now she figured it was a way to pass the time. He wouldn't refuse her paper and ink would he?

Adam certainly took his time returning, and by the time he walked into the room Mary had grown impatient, and she jumped to speak. She'd rehearsed what she intended to do, so the words came out quickly, "Mary paper?" and she held the quill pretending to draw with it.

He'd been caught off guard at the unexpected request, but he didn't look annoyed, only surprised and perhaps a little uncertain. Had she said it wrong?

"Mary paper?" She asked again, quieter.

"Yes, paper," he agreed. He went for one of his bags, placed it on the table, and began to rummage through it. Mary was excited, and eagerly sat back down. She didn't notice, but Adam did, that she was fidgeting: running fingers through her hair, tapping the table, bouncing her feet.

XX

For his part Adam found her behavior most unusual, and he wondered what was so wonderful about some paper. Did she intend to share more words through pictures? Surely that wasn't what this was about…

Finally his fingers brushed over what he looked for. Adam handed the papers over to the girl, amused by the wide grin that stretched over her face. He rolled his eyes. Could this girl get any odder? And, was her obvious… affection...for drawing related to the story behind her? The mystery of who she was, why she didn't speak common, and what sort of power had she held in the forest to make the night elves think her a threat. To Adam's knowledge she had done nothing but cry, cower in her bed, and show the oddest reactions to the simplest things.

Had his sister acted like this? If so, Adam was unsure whether to be grateful or not that he'd probably missed that stage. It was rather entertaining when she wasn't whimpering or crying like a hungry pup. Adam always found himself running away whenever she started crying. But, assuming she was in fact a normal human and not something unthinkable, then Catania and the girl, Mary, were probably of a similar age.

Another glance her way as he handed her the ink pot. She was running her fingers over the paper, looking absurdly fascinated with it. He shrugged. If it was impossible to ask why then there was no point in frustrating himself trying to find out why.

Adam didn't know what he expected her to do now that she had what she had desired so much, but he was rather disappointed when she simply began to color.

He didn't recognize the shapes as they slowly but surely began to fill the page. Every now and then her hands would slow, and she might look up at him, as if remembering he was still there. At one point Adam relaxed in the remaining empty chair, leaning back and following her movements.

The silence was comfortable, and a smile lingered on the girls lips. Was she actually happy? A wrinkle formed between his brows as he sat there perplexed. She was happy! Held prisoner, loosely guarded prisoner he's admit, and wanted by important people back in Stormwind. Didn't that bother her? Did she even know?

He remembered meeting her in the dungeon. She's been terrified of the elves and clung to him like a baby. Some showed aversion to the elves, but Adam couldn't recall knowing anyone who'd acted like elves were their nightmares personified. Again, Adam wondered what Mary had done, or continues to do. Yes, he could feel the magic radiating from her and he was sure anyone who felt with magic would be able to. The... corruption, as the night elves labeled it, was obvious enough. And evidently she smelt strange too, but Adam guessed human senses weren't sharp enough to pick it up. All this, and here she sat, content to draw on the backs of old letters he knew she couldn't read.

Adam was beginning to feel hungry again when Mary pulled him out of his thoughts again. She'd finished drawing, and was gazing at it with a critical expression. She picked at her drawing- even from his awkward angle Adam could recognize what it was- and the girl clearly had mixed feelings for her picture. Adam leaned in for a closer look, and was amazed at what he saw. The girl could draw! He looked closer, taking in the shading and intricate details she'd somehow managed with a dull quill. Suddenly she didn't seem so young and useless to him. Realizing his jaw had dropped, he snapped it shut.

Mary saw this, and laughed at him, delighted.

Feeling foolish he muttered, "It's very good," and his eyes skirted back towards the drawing, drinking it in. She'd drawn a house- her house.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Suddenly felt like writing after being inspired by some lotr fanficiton. also, i know my chapters are pretty short, but i always want to instantly post whatever i write. I try and make sure each chapter is at least 2k words. Let me know if it'd be better if they were longer. **

**desirae668: your reviews mean so much to me! and they interact so** **little because dialogue scares me haha, sometimes you read a story where the things the people say just kill it. i do have plans for them though *evil grin***

Chapter 9:

The next two days passed slowly. Mary still wanted to see the rest of the ship and Adam still refused to offer to show her it- and there was no way she'd explore alone, even if she could. The girl shuddered just thinking about the last time she'd ended up alone in the city, running away from that beast. No, if Mary was going to ever leave the damn room she'd have to wait for the man to take her. Sadly, he wasn't interested in changing his mind at all. He'd provided her with a few more old letters for drawing, so that was something. At first she found she could only draw things of home, but after one too many pictures were ruined by splattered tears she tried to rein in the turbulent emotions swirling in her head. Instead, she drew the things she'd seen so far, and then tried to learn the words for them. Adam was helpful enough, and he seemed to admire what she drew too.

This time she'd captured the likeness of the green creature. Her encounter with the one from the prison was seared into her memory, so she was morbidly satisfied as she held the page back inspecting what she'd made.

The girl felt a twinge of disappointment that Adam wasn't there to see it right then. It had become a habit to share her pictures with him. Over the hours they'd silently spent together, he had proved to be most talkative when she drew. Mary wasn't entirely sure why that was, but she had a hunch he enjoyed the distraction her drawings provided to veer off the boredom he was also beginning be pestered by. The black and white attempt at the green creature taunted Mary, who was more curious than ever to know what it was. With a sigh Mary put the drawing aside, and after a pause of thought, began another.

She was hunched over the table, lost in her artwork, when her hand unexpectedly jerked across the paper. It left a thick line of black ink over her drawing, ruining it. Cursing the sudden noise that had startled her, the girl tilted her head to listen. Mary heard the heavy clamor that followed Adam wherever he went, the man apparently had never been introduced to the idea of sneaking. He wasn't alone either, if the odd, rhythmic scratching was anything to go by. It reminded her of a dog scampering over hardwood floors; the _stritch stratch_ of claws on wood. Whoever accompanied Adam, they came closer until Mary was sure she could see their shadows in the crack beneath the locked door. All the while they talking, rather loudly, and of course Mary understood none of it. Mary didn't recognize the voice speaking, and felt her hair stand on end when it burst into laughter. Mary crouched in her seat at the menacing combination of growling and roaring that erupted. It was unnatural and dark, and to her bewilderment, Mary thought it almost sounded familiar.

Her eyes flickered from the door to the rest of the room, unsure if she should remain in her seat or hide. But before she could act, the laughter died down just in time for her to hear Adam speak in a rapid hushed tone when the door creaked ominously and was pushed open. Rooted into her seat the girl's fingers curled around the chair beneath her, and her eyes grew so wide the men surely thought they'd fall right out of her skull.

Vulnerability overwhelmed her as she took in the two forms that blocked both the door, her only hope at escape, because to her horror she had been right, she _had_ heard the noise before. Looming behind Adam like a wild mass of fur and fangs stood the beast from the city. Mary choked up, her throat constricting in alarm as only the smallest whimper escaped her, one only the stronger ears of the beast could hear. Her mind was a panicky chaos of half constructed thoughts and internal screaming. Faintly, a microscopic part of her went unheard as it reminded her that this beast, terrifying and nightmarish as it was, had not harmed her the first time they'd unfortunately encountered each other.

Her instincts were ruling her, having shoved their way past logical thought. Mary was aware of every shift and exhale occurring in the small, alarmingly crowded cabin. Adam exchanged a knowing look with the beast, as if to say 'i knew this would happen,' before advancing towards the girl cowering in her seat.

He held his hands up as if to calm a cornered animal. "Mary, Gordon good," enforcing the statement with an encouraging smile. Mary blinked slowly. "Gordon," a tilt of Adam's head towards the beast, then introduced a new word: "friend." He stretched out the word, repeating it once or twice and gesturing to the spice between himself and the creature. Even petrified as she was, Mary got the gist of the word, though it did little alleviated her fear. She offered a stiff nod to convey her understanding.

Behind him the creature snorted in amusement, causing Adam to aim at it a withering frown. The creature, Gordon, spoke, the noises passing it's fang filled mouth guttural and deep. It leaned forward, loudly sniffed the air, and wrinkled it's...snout? Again it spoke, but this time the humor left, revealing a far darker tone. Grim distrust rang from the foreign words, and Mary grew grateful for Adam's presence between them. Mary winced when it's glinting eyes landed on her, and again it sniffed.

Distraught, Mary turned to Adam. She wished it would leave, unable to stop the horrible memories that came rushing back in the beast's presence. Seeing it for the first time, running desperately through crowds to escape it... She tore her eyes from the creature, feeling like a baby as tears welled between her eyelashes. She blinked them back, quickly wiping away the few that tried to trail down her cheek. She felt like a fool. A terrified fool who wanted to be left alone again. The girl felt smaller than ever beneath both their heavy gazes: one harsh and unforgiving, the other sad. Mary knew her tears hadn't escaped either's notice.

To make things worse, Gordon and Adam began to argue. Everyone on the boat could probably hear them. Adam was calmer, his words biting but steady. Mary wondered how he could be so levelheaded and face the creature head on. A_ friend_, Mary grimaced, sure. But still, Mary thought, Adam must be a very brave man.

It was Gordon who scared her, whose argument seemed to be rapidly breaking down to an incomprehensible string of growls and snapping jaws. Mary watched warily as things grew further out of control, fear seeping into her bones inch by inch. She could do nothing but sit back, watch, and pray it ended well. Adam's eyes kept flickering back to her, shooting concerned glances. Mary was alarmed to realize the fight was about her- what had she done?!

Adam had just spoken again, his tone flat when the Gordon lurched forward. His clawed hands slashed through the air in a fit of anger, and he bared his teeth at her, spitting wildly.

With a cry of dread, Mary fell from her chair in her attempts to flee, knocking the chair down as well, both her and the chair hitting the floor in an undignified clatter. She was panicking, doubting she'd leave this confrontation alive. But where was she too run; especially when Adam stepped protectively before her, forming a wall of armor and strength between the quivering girl and frothing beast.

Sprawled on the floor, Mary hugged herself. This was actually happening, she was going to die! Mary moaned lowly, pulling her legs to her chest, hugging tighter. Oh god.

Before her Adam had positioned himself defensively, and Mary saw clearly his hands twitching to grab his absent sword, which lay resting elsewhere in the room. He had no way to save himself. Mary looked on morbidly, half sure her protector was about to be mauled. Doomed or not, Mary scooted away from him. Years of public education had ironed into her mind that beneath a desk was the safest place to be in times of danger. For a second the turmoil of fight was replaced by the memory of an old film showed in her ninth grade history class. A talking turtle telling her and all her classmates that during the threat of a nuclear attack, to hide beneath their desks. Like a turtle in his shell. As quick as it came, the memory vanished, and beneath the table Mary sat curled up, her eyes clenched shut as she waited.

In her mind she saw Adam being struck down, and Gordon, who'd reverted to a frothing monster, approaching the table, his bloodied claws scraping the wooden planks on the floor as he went, flipping the table over, revealing Mary cowering, and then... Suddenly Mary's breaths were shallow and loud in her ears, almost drowning out the ugly fight on the verge of breaking out. Mary expected a sudden cacophony, waited for the sure signs that Gordon had lashed out at Adam, waited with irregular breaths for something to happen.

Nothing happened. Seconds had ticked by, and the room had grown quiet and still. The only sound was Mary gasping for air, as if both Adam and monstrous Gordon had vanished. What-

"Mary," he said hesitantly, leaving ample space between the syllables. "Mary." Adam said it softly.

She opened her eyes, peering over here knees to see Adam crouched, looking at her beneath the table. One of his hands was outstretched, beckoning her to come out. So he hadn't left, Mary thought, or died. She felt both foolish and relieved, it was good he was alive. But where had Gordon gone? She didn't see his feet anywhere. Where was he?

She looked at the man's bare hand again, debating placing her own in it. Before she'd decided, he spoke again, less patient. "Mary-" There was a group of words spoken too fast. Then, "Gordon go. No Gordon." In another situation the baby talk would have made her smile.

Still, he was waiting, so Mary let him grab her hand and pull her out from her hiding spot. He steadied her as she wavered on her feet. Her immediate inspection of the room confirmed that Gordon was in fact gone. She must have been to distracted to notice? She frowned. "Gordon go?" The words came out small and hesitant.

"Yes, Gordon go. Gordon is gone," he corrected. "You're safe."

"Gordon is gone," she repeated obediently, noting the correction. However, the last phrase Mary hadn't heard before, but she nodded anyway, recognizing his tone to be comforting.

His hand dropped- Mary hadn't even realized his hand had been on her shoulder. Mary found her eyes following the hand as it's fingers danced about, unable to stay still. Was he worried? There was an awkwardness hanging between them. Both seemed to have something to say but neither seemed able to say it.

Her mind flickered through her options, hesitantly hovering over one in particular. Should she do it? Would it be weird? What would he think? People did that, right? Hugged to say thank you? She racked her brain for an answer, but came up with nothing. She rolled her shoulders nervously. More time ticked by, and still she couldn't make up her mind... Perhaps if she just did it right then, before she lost her nerve? Do it Mary, she urged, just do it. But she didn't move, self-consciousness pushing her down. No. Yes. No. Maybe? What if it upset him? She glanced up at him and he was staring at her. Do it, she told herself again, do it. Just lift your gathered her willpower.

"You're safe now. I go."

And with that Adam walked flinched at the solid _thump_ of the door shutting, feeling stupider than she had in a long time. What was wrong with her?


End file.
